


She Touches Herself

by foxjar



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, Masturbation, Obsessive Behavior, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-09-25 22:30:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20379181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: In a fit of lust, Karren masturbates on Shuu's bed.





	She Touches Herself

Shuu's bedroom is sacred not only to the man himself but Karren as well. She's been in here so many times she's lost count — to clean, to gawk, to wonder. It is Shuu's abode of choice when he's moody, his emotions driving him to solitude yet again. He'll bury himself beneath the thick sheets with his sad, longing eyes peeking out at Karren. It always reminds her of when they were children and how nothing seems to have changed.

He is her master, and she is his loyal servant to the end.

His room is larger than the one she had back in Germany — back with her family. Back then she had her choice of whichever rooms she desired: a music room, library, conservatory. Even her closet as a child was as big as her stuffy bedroom is now, but she doesn't mind too much. She simply holds the contrast close to her heart: her life in Germany, and her life now. This was all before she met Shuu and before she was enveloped in the eccentricity that the Tsukiyama family holds so dear: their fashion, their ability to slip between half a dozen different languages, their excessive eating habits.

She wishes her family were here, of course; she wishes they were here to lessen her burden in life with their love. But she has Shuu now to help guide her in life, even if he doesn't truly realize the extent to which she follows him.

His bed lies along the far wall, almost comically oversized to match the size of the room. The sheets are soft, the mattress plush beneath her fingertips; Shuu has entrusted her to change his sheets and keep the room clean for so very long. She requested the duty — begged for it, even — before her cousin relented. When she first came to the Tsukiyama household she was offered room and board in exchange for her services, and she isn't one to shirk her duties. This should make her mad — that she wasn't accepted as a guest, despite being related by blood — but she owes her extended family everything.

Life, freedom, love.

The task of cleaning Shuu's room has become a trophy to her; it's an award she is grateful for, although not one she feels she deserves. But she is nothing if not diligent and the walls keep her secrets. Even the canopy bed does not tell her tales, not even when it creaks and groans beneath her weight. No matter how many times she's been here like this — on his bed or rifling through his wardrobe to put away clothes — she never feels quite welcome. She is a ghost here, silent and unseen as she skirts around the truth.

Shuu's bed is the altar upon which he might make love to Karren in another life. Another world; it's a fanciful dream, right alongside the life of a woman she's always dreamt of experiencing. Long dresses cinched at the waist and hair bound in braids — to twist and twirl. She's always loved those sorts of clothes — the ones that make her feel like a woman — and she keeps a few on hand even now. They've never looked quite right on her, always accentuating the parts of her body that she's the most insecure about, but she keeps them all the same.

_Kanae has too much power here,_ she thinks as she lies back on the bed. Shuu trusts him too much — the dutiful cousin always aiming to please him in whatever way he can. It's Karren who holds the secrets deep in her throat and it's Karren who undresses in her cousin's bed. She quickly shimmies out of her slacks, but somehow, taking off her shirt feels more personal — more intimate. She loosens the buttons slowly, imagining it's Shuu's hands on her, making her skin sweat and body ache.

When she manages to peel off her binder, she sucks in a breath. It's freeing as her breasts spill out from beneath the constricting fabric, but it's revolting as well — this body that is hers and not hers. This body that Shuu will never love.

She rarely gives herself time like this to appreciate her own body. The curve of her hips, waist, chest — all rendered meaningless behind the persona that is Kanae. But if she closes her eyes and lets the scent of her beloved fill her senses, she can almost ease into it. Her hands play into the motions — ones that she doesn't have much practice with, but it's as if a part of her knows the way.

Her fingertips are light along her breasts, shy at first before circling her nipples, making them harden. Over and over until she can almost feel his hands on her — teasing her. One hand slips down her stomach and between her legs, touching herself through her underwear.

Men's underwear, made from a thicker fabric than the few panties she keeps hidden in her dresser. But she doesn't dwell on this too long — not when she can feel the faraway touch of Shuu. She sneaks her hand beneath the waistband, pausing to breathe as she imagines the wonder Shuu might feel in this fantasy. At her warmth, at her wetness — how he can bring her so close to the edge with a mere look.

Her underwear is the last piece of clothing to leave her body. It is the final remnant of both her masculinity and femininity as she sinks deeper into the fantasy, her fingers touching the most intimate part of her. She's so sensitive — shuddering at the slightest touch — and she wonders if Shuu would like that. If he would appreciate being the first man to touch her, to love her, to worship her body.

With her head on his pillow, he almost smells close enough to touch. Warm, clean, and delicious, but nothing like the gourmet cuts of human flesh they have both come to savor. His skin calls for a different kind of lavish — of fevered kisses and love bites.

And, in an even further world, of deep enough bites that will never dissipate — the union of two ghouls sworn to one another. The ceremony might be public — an ornate gathering of both friends and family organized by Shuu himself — but their union of flesh would be behind closed doors. Maybe this very bed would be where they bared their skin to one another, teeth sinking in so deeply the wounds would never heal.

She gasps at the thought, her hands moving quicker against herself — of Shuu being hers and hers only.

_Mein. Mein. Mein._

Her legs ache, sweat dripping down her thighs as she arches her back. She moves her hips into the movement of her hand as if someone's there — as if someone is guiding her. But she's too wet and it's both too much sensation while entirely too little. She squeezes her eyes shut in concentration, focusing on the way her body feels; on every tingle that creeps along her skin.

_Can I, really?_

Shuu would be so good to her; he would ease his length into her with a pained expression on his face as he forced himself to be patient. He'd move to the tune of her body, his hands running up and down her legs. He'd ask with his eyes, his lips, his thrusts.

_I'm not hurting you, am I? You know I'd never want that._

_My little rose._

Karren wonders how he would feel inside her — if he would enjoy the way she pulses around him after she's come. Maybe he'd lean in to kiss her, maybe he'd let her rest as her high faded, or maybe he would lose his composure and fuck her like she's always dreamed of.

It's never felt this good touching herself before and she's never delved so far into the fantasy like this. She squirms on the sheets, soft like silk, as her moans threaten to spill from her throat. Someone might hear her cries, but not Shuu.

Never Shuu. Her voice is always just out of range and even when they're speaking to one another, he isn't hearing her. Not truly. Her love and passion are so loud; they thrum in her head, overwhelming her other senses. He makes her heart beat so fast when they're together that it's a wonder he hasn't figured things out yet — that she is a woman and that she loves him.

Shuu has no idea.

Karren stops squeezing her chest to trail her newly freed fingers down, down, and inside her — where they've never been before. A single finger doesn't hurt like she thought it would, but it doesn't feel pleasant either. Not until she's curling her finger, reaching for the cusp that will finally soothe her high.

_If only I had more hands. If only he were here._

Shuu would lay her weary hands to rest as he kissed all along her neck and chest. He'd tell her how beautiful she is — how long he's wanted this.

Her.

Karren.

While she's never heard him say her real name she can almost hear it in her head — that thickly sweet voice of his. She's so close to moaning, fervent pleas on the tip of her tongue, as relief finally washes over her. Her knees shake as she comes to the thought of Shuu's voice and his eyes peering over her.

Although her whole body aches, she keeps her fingers inside herself for a few minutes, focusing on the feeling of the thrum. The vibrations last so long she isn't even sure how much time passes before they finally start to dissipate. When she opens her eyes, reality stares back at her and she's left wondering just what she's done in her beloved Shuu's bed.

She uses his shower to clean up: his soap, his towel. Every warm drop of water that hits her skin is heavy, reminding her of her place — that none of this belongs to her and that she is owed nothing. And yet she can't feel bad about snatching these small moments of paradise. They hurt no one, after all, and as long as nobody knows, no one will have to feel the sting of betrayal and disappointment.

She's the only one who has to be burdened by any of this.

In the large, fogged-up mirror, she looks at her body in a strange new light: this is the body he would love. The firm muscles, the dip of her waist — all of it. When she looks at herself this way, she feels beautiful; through the eyes of Shuu, she is complete.

As she changes the soiled sheets, she wears one of his button-down shirts. Having been the one to clean and fold them, she knows exactly where they're kept, as well as all of his favorites. The shirt is much too large for her, falling past her hips, but it's her last act of rebellion before she returns to reality. In this fantasy of hers, she likes to think that wearing Shuu's clothes would stir him up. His eyes would watch her every movement, his gaze dipping to where the shirt lies open — to her breasts. Eventually, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of her; he'd lean in to kiss her neck, smoothing his hands all along her body. He'd tell her how much he loves her in every language he could muster: French, Japanese, Italian, German.

Karren takes her time making the bed, despite not knowing when Shuu is due to return home. It could be minutes, hours, days; there is no stopping him once he's started chasing a particularly enticing ingredient. Eyes, lips, skin, hands, hearts — nothing escapes his refined palate once his heart is set on the hunt.

_Except me,_ she thinks, her hands gripping the sheets so tightly they almost tear. No matter their closeness — no matter how fondly Shuu cups her cheek in those rare, tender moments — she still escapes his view.

She takes her time because, for all she knows, this will be the last time.


End file.
